Posts Tagged ‘wells’

BACK to normal this post, and I begin with an apology. So far, I’ve enjoyed Wells’ outstanding Satanic Millsand tasty Burning GoldBombardier bottled beers. But managed to completely overlook the much easier to find English Premium Bitter. I don’t normally go for straight-up bitters as they’re usually uninteresting, but the ubiquity and patriotism of English Premium Bitter means it must be tried. And, of course, it fills a gaping hole in my coverage of the Wells’ splendid Bombardier range. So here it is. A bottle of Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter. Bought for £1.99 pence from a shop on Bethnal Green Road in London’s East End.

Looking as solid as an old English oak tree, Wells choose their bottles well. What’s more, they’ve been learning what you should do with the neck label. Brewers, take note, they have put useful information on it. Have a look at this.

Well, okay, on closer inspection it’s more marketing speak than useful information. But it’s a start. Does “burnished copper ale” mean anything to anyone reading? If so, leave a comment at the end of the post.

The front label keeps things simple, traditional and English.

What more can you say about it? It’s a shield in the design of St George’s Cross. The middle keeps things simple. It has the “Wells” logo with the words “Brewers Since 1876” which is a long time ago, but not a very long time ago. Under that are the banners and crest saying “Bombardier” “English” “Premium Bitter”. Under which is that all imported alcoholic volume. 5.2% alcoholic volume makes it strong, but not very strong.

What of the back? The neck label is again the place to start.

It looks like a lot of information until you realise that it’s the same piece of information in many languages. All you need to know is that it was brewed by “Wells & Young’s Brewing Company Limited, Bedford, UK, MK40 4LU.” So there you have it. Interesting beers from a boring place.

The back label proper is where the real detail lies.

They open with a description so informative and concise, I don’t need to paraphrase. Instead, here it is in full: “Our own natural mineral water, the ripest English Fuggles hops and crushed Crystal malt deliver this experience of England in a glass. Peppery aromas give way to the perfect balance of malty richness, tangy hops and sultana fruit on the palate, with a long, soft spicy finish”.

Mouth watering stuff. And, remarkably informative and concise. Not like the marketing speak and dearth of facts we normally put up with. Well done Wells.

Under that is the list of ingredients. And it’s good new again. It’s the full thing, not the one or two ingredients you usually get. Nothing too out of the ordinary apart from two E numbers. Now they’re not welcome. British ale is supposed to be as natural as a hedge covered in brambles. For the curious, the list is “Water, Malted Barley, Sugar, Hops, Yeast, Colour E150C, Stabiliser E405.”

Under all the uninteresting small print are a few bits of miscellany. The web address is www.bombardier.co.uk. And, with an alcoholic volume of 5.2% and a 500ml bottle (why not a full pint?), Bombardier English Premium Bitter weighs in at 2.6 UK units of alcohol.

With that out of the way, we get to the fun bit. What does Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter actually taste like? Is it any good and should you buy it? Let’s find out.

Frustratingly, this English Premium Bitter fails to fill my English pint glass. The blotchy head doesn’t improve matters either. But the “burnished copper” thing starts to make sense. The photo might not show it, but it’s the colour of copper that hasn’t been cleaned in a few years.

What does Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter smell of? It’s not a smell hat fills the room. Hold your nose over the glass however, and you’re rewarded with a luscious smell of hops. The label described the smell as “peppery”. There’s certainly something giving it an edge.

What does Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter taste of? The first two gulps are nice ones. And ones that tell me this is to be sipped, not gulped. First impression is that there’s not a whole lot of flavour or taste. It’s there, only being a little more subtle than your typical English football fan.

A few more sips, and I’m making some sense of Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter. The label described things like “malty richness, tangy hops and sultana fruit” and a “soft spicy finish”. I think it’s got most of those things, but less of them than you’d expect. There is a mildly fruity taste, but blink and you’d miss it. The aftertaste is soft and gentle, but with such a long, lingering finish, you don’t miss it as easily. I’m going to describe it as malty, biscuity and hoppy.

As for bitterness, the whole flavour and taste experience is so soft and gentle, I’m amazed it’s even called a “Bitter”. Admittedly, I don’t know much about beer, but if, like me, you were expecting an onslaught of taste and bitterness, Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter will come as a surprise.

What do I like about Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter? I like how well it’s packaged. I like the subtlety of flavours and taste. I like how that subtlety was such a surprise. I like how easy to drink it is; and how much of a surprise that drinkability is. And, like the other Bombardiers, it is very well made with some excellent ingredients.

What don’t I like about Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter? I don’t like my English Premium Bitter to adopt a Euro 500ml and failing to fill a pint glass. Personal preference here, but I was hoping for flavour and taste that the human tongue could detect. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, it is still better than most lagers, but the labels built up hopes of more. Lastly, those E numbers. Is quality ale supposed to have E numbers? Experts, do please leave your thoughts in the comments at the end of the post.

To sum up, Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter is a surprisingly soft and gentle bitter that’s nearly as easy to drink as lager. I think some people might call it a “session ale” for those reasons. It reminds me of Fuller’s London Prideand Marston’s Pedigree. If you want a drinkable ale, but don’t want a summery taste or to feel like you’re easting it, this is the one to choose.

Rating: 3.8

Have you tried Wells Bombardier English Premium Bitter? Can you answer any of the numerous questions raised in the ‘review’? Do please leave your answers, opinions, corrections, requests, recommendations and places to buy, here in the comments.

Besides being revolting to anyone who drinks less than eight each day, there was one other commonality. They were all 9% alcoholic volume. For whatever reason; fear of regulation, corporate social responsibility or a gentlemen’s agreement, there were none above 9% this side of the English channel. That’s what I thought, until I found this. From an off-license in Kennington, South London, here is a can of Crest Super 10% Super Strength Premium Lager.

At first sight, everything looks promising. For a start, this has a classy purple exterior, unlike the stripy competition. It has pictures of hops and a “Master Brewers” ‘seal, all adding to the sense that this is a real beer.

It even has a proper roundel. With two bears at the top, the upper border says “Brewed With Best Quality Barley Malt”. And the lower border has words continuing with “And The Finest German Aroma Hops”. So this is German is it? If you’re going to have a strong beer, Germany is one of the places you want it to be from. This is shaping up very well indeed.

Turning the can around, you won’t find much on this side. There’s a join. And the words “Serve Cool”. Advice I intend to pay heed to when it comes to tasting this mysterious, yet probably explosive beverage.

Ah good. This side has some writing. Lets read it. Maybe it says from where in Germany it came?

No. No it doesn’t say that. Right at the top, it says “Brewed And Canned By: The Crest Brewing Co. A Division of Wells & Young’s Brewing Company Ltd, Havelock Street, Bedford UK, MK40 4LU”. Regular readers will know that any beer that pretends to be imported when it isn’t immediately gets docked points. Would you rather try something from Bavaria or Bedfordshire?

Back to what the can says, and next up come the vital statistics. This is a big 500ml can. Oddly, for a UK produced can with a 10% alcoholic volume, I can’t find any UK units of alcohol rating. An intentional regulatory and moral dodge? Or an innocent omission? Your opinions at the end of this post please.

Another oddity is that the only English language in that big block of sideways text is telling you to look under the can for the best before end date. It has a full list of ingredients, but in German. Not English. Luckily, our language is similar enough to German for me to make sense of what it says. If you’re expecting the ingredients to be of typical beer ingredients plus some chemicals, you’d be spot-on.

Right then. I was hoping to drag out the descriptive part of this review as long as possible. But I’ve run out of things to read on the can. I’m going to have to drink this stuff and try to describe what it’s like. A task I’ve been putting off for weeks already.

What does Crest Super 10% Super Strength Premium Lager, the strongest beer I’ve ever tried taste like? Will be as drinkable as I’m hoping? Or as vomit inducing as I’m fearing? Curiosity is getting the better of me as it’s time to find out…

There’s some head. But not much. After a few moments, you’re left with a patch of foam. But what get’s me is the colour. That bright orange-amber colour would look more at home on a cider. It looks as natural as Jordan.

Does it smell as synthetic as it looks? The roundel promised the “Finest German Aroma Hops”. I’d say that it smells like the other super strength lagers. But maybe slightly more delicate. Whatever the case, you can’t hide from the distinctly un-beery smell of this and other super strength lagers. It reminds me of the smell of gobstoppers or other such sweets. Not a natural and tasty beer.

How does it taste? I’m going into this with a totally open mind, by the way. No prejudice whatsoever. So what does it taste like?

Two gulps in and I realise that gulps are the wrong way to go. If I’m to avoid seeing my dinner again, sips over the course of the night are the only way to go.

How can I describe it? Not easily. My entire digestive system is currently telling me not to consume any more. The rest of this review might be a bit shorter than normal.

A few minutes later, and I gingerly attempt a few sips. Unusually for a lager, it does have a hit of flavour. A flavour of hops and chemicals and think. It’s hard to pin down because of the massive aftertaste that swamps you. You get hit with a gigantic wave of bitterness, alcohol and chemicals. Unsurprisingly, it lingers for a good long time.

Nearly a quarter of the way through now, so what am I enjoying about Crest Super? I like that does something a little different to the other super strength lagers. I like that it’s 1% stronger. If I were an alcoholic or someone who enjoying drinking many cans of super strength each day, I would be delighted with Crest Super.

What am I not enjoying about Crest Super? Nearly everything. It is the most undrinkable beer I’ve had in more than a year of doing this blog. I doubt I’m going to finish this beer tonight, and it’s the first time that’s ever happened. It’s as if my body is shouting “no more! Please no more!” after every sip. This literally gut wrenching effect means I can’t even start to enjoy the flavour and taste.

How can I sum up Crest Super? It is the most extreme beer I have ever tried. It is the strongest. And the most undrinkable. Slightly different to the other super strength lagers, but not necessarily better. If you are an alcoholic, or if you enjoying drinking many cans of super strength lager each day, then you will love Crest Super. If however, you’re a normal person, then you probably won’t. It will either send you to drunken oblivion or to the toiler to throw up. But maybe I’m looking at it all wrong. Maybe you should treat it not as a beer, but as a spirit. It certainly tastes like one.

Rating: I’ll leave that up to you.

Have you tried Crest Super? Draught or out of a can? What did you think of it?

Update:

Armed with experience from my first can, and from the comments sections from the other super strength lagers, my second can of Crest Super was much better. I can confirm that it’s absolutely essential to drink it only while it’s very very cold. Even if this means leaving the dregs at the bottom, because the contents will have warmed up too much in your hand. And don’t do what I did and pour it out. Drink it from the can to make sure you don’t accidentally smell it.

With this in mind, you can nearly enjoy it. At Arctic temperatures, it really does have a long, hoppy finish. And yes, the can is more solid than others. But there’s still better ways to get wasted than this.

Asahi Super Drywas my favourite Japanese beer. Until I discovered that it wasn’t Japanese at all, but was brewed here in Britain. So I was thrilled to find another Japanese-looking beer at a shop in Dalston. Here it is: Kirin Ichiban, “Japan’s Prime Brew”. It must be Japanese. Surely.

It’s almost impossible to read, but the neck-label has writing either side of the “Kirin Ichiban” logo.

Careful squinting at the left-hand-side of the neck-label has them describe it as a “unique premium beer”. That’s welcome for a couple of reasons. Firstly, they didn’t say “lager”. Secondly, anything that makes a beer unique is very warmly welcome. The last thing the market needs is another generic lager pretending to be Oriental.

What makes it unique? The other side of the neck-label says something about a process and only using “the most flavourful portion of the finest ingredients”. I don’t know about you, but that explained nothing.

The front-label does away with the traditional roundel, yet still manages to be conservative and conventional.

All the important details are there. That this is a regular 330ml bottle. And that it has an equally regular 5% alcoholic volume. As out of the ordinary as rain. But right at the bottom of the label is another mention of “The Authentic Ichiban Shibori Process”. What is a “Shibori Process”? Why is it unique. I’m hoping for some answers on the back label.

First impressions are not good. Shiny golden text is not readable when there’s a light bulb switched on in the room. Or any illumination at all for that matter.

After much squinting, I’ve deciphered this. They describe the character as “pure, crisp and intensely satisfying”. And that the Ichiban Shibori process has something to do with pressing the ingredients once and then throwing them away instead of using them over and over. Sounds interesting. I’m looking forward to trying this one.

Then comes the bad news. This hasn’t been imported from Japan. Instead, it was brewed under license from Kirin Holdings by Wells & Young’s Brewing Co in Bedford. They even have a European web site at www.kirineurope.com. Surprisingly, it’s not bad. There’s lots of history and background if you prefer to read about beer instead of imbibing it.

The last little detail to mention is the UK units of alcohol. It’s nearly impossible to read, but that doesn’t matter. It’s only 1.7 UK units of alcohol.

What does Kirin Ichiban taste like? Is the Ichiban Shibori process just marketing guff? Should you buy it? I can hardly wait to find out…

Watch out for that head. It froths up a treat. A couple of minutes later, it has settled down, but it’s still bigger than most I’ve seen recently. On the surface at least, it looks like a lager. Fizzy and pale in colour. I was rather hoping that the famed “Ichiban Shibori” process would do something about that. Apparently not.

How does it smell? It smells a bit lagery. Again, I was hoping the “Ichiban Shibori” process would change that too. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t smell bad. It smells of a rich blend of malted barley. Not like many lagers out there at all. But still a little lagery.

Does it taste like a lager too? Sort of. But not in a bad way. A couple of gulps in, and I’m liking Kiribn Ichiban. Or at least this Wells & Young’sversion. The flavour and taste won’t really impress you. Unless you love lager. It has much the same taste of malted barley that most lager style beers have. It’s the way it does it that impresses me. It is so rich and smooth, it’s like drinking Leslie Philips. The bitter “bite” that lager drinkers seem to love, and that I hate, isn’t there. In it’s place, is a pleasantly mild bitter taste that you barely notice.

What am I enjoying about Kirin Ichiban? I love how easy it is to drink. It is so gentle and so smooth, no one will object if you offer then a bottle. I’ve had a few other good lagers like this, that are this smooth and easy to drink. I’ll happily add Kirin Ichiban to the good lager list for these reasons. The drinkability also speaks about the quality of ingredients. It doesn’t taste like you’re drinking preservatives and flavourings, like with some. It also has that crisp, clean and refreshing quality that this type of beer should have.

What don’t I like about Kirin Ichiban? For a start, I don’t like the whole idea of licensed beers. I’d be much happier if this were a little bit more expensive, but imported from Japan. Beer from Bedford is never going to be as exciting, even when it pretends to be Japanese. Besides that, the head could be a handful. It’s so easy to drink that you could be mistaken for thinking that you’re drinking water. And, disappointingly, it’s not as unique as the label promised. The special process has made a very good lagery style beer, but there are others like it.

To sum up, Kirin Ichiban is a very good lagery style beer. I’m not sure if it really is a pilsner style lager, but it shares a lot in common. As such, there’s no flavour and very little taste. But it is very easy to drink. And I think it would be brilliantly well with a spicy meal. I really would like to try the genuine Japanese version though.

Rating: 3

Have you tried Kirin Ichiban? What did you think of it? Do please leave your opinions, corrections, requests, recommendations and places to buy, here in the comments.

I COULDN’T believe it either. But my local Tesco Metro is selling something interesting again. And it is a golden ale from England’s most patriotic of ale brands: Well’s Bombardier Burning Gold. That’s the same Wells that brought us the delectable Luxury Double Chocolate Stout, quirky Banana Bread Beer and sublime Bombardier Satanic Mills porter. I’m looking forward to gold in bottle shape.

Just look at it. You won’t mistake it for many other bottles. It’s as if someone made a gold coloured jelly in a bottle shaped mould, and then stuck some labels on. Look closely and you’ll see the Wells bottle design with the words “Independent Family Brewer” embossed around the shoulder.

Here is the front of the neck-label.

Whatever your take on English patriotism, the label ticks all the right boxes. And that’s worth celebrating because so many brewers get it wrong. Look past the “Drink of England” and the tenuous link to William Blake’s Jerusalem and you find some useful information.

They describe it as a “lively, refreshing golden ale”. Every bottle of beer should have that sort of description on the neck label. It just makes your ‘buy’ or ‘not buy’ decision in the shop so much faster.

The neck-label doesn’t end there though. It wraps around. And the back of it helpfully tells you who brewed it, bottled it, and where.

For the curious, the full name of Wells is Wells & Young’s Brewing Company Limited. And they come from Bedford. And I can’t think of anything interesting to say abut Bedford. If you can, leave a comment at the end of the post.

The front-label takes the standard Wells shield and makes it gold.

It doesn’t say any more than it needs to say, either. The Wells name proudly sports the date 1876. Which is good. And the alcoholic volume can’t be missed. The 4.7% in Burning Gold isn’t bad. Not strong, nor weak.

Over on the back label, and Wells’ polished house style continues its gold theme.

It goes straight into a more detailed version of the description from the neck-label. They describe it as “an instantly refreshing beer”. That the aroma is “zesty”. And that it has a “dry, crisp flavour with more than a hint of citrus on the palate and a smooth lasting finish”. Sounds yummy. When you read the back of a beer bottle in the shop, that is the sort of thing you want to read about. Not a back story involving legendary figures and ancient traditions.

The ingredients are water, malted barley, hops and yeast. In, presumably, order of proportion. And that’s good because usually, they are not. Water, if it gets a mention at all, it hidden away at the back of the list.

The web address they print on the bottle is www.bombardier.co.uk. I encourage you to visit. It’s not too Flash-heavy and far from the worst brewer website out there. The closest I could find to a homepage for Burning Gold was half a page shared with Satanic Mills. Both well worth reading about, and drinking, but surely they deserve their own obsessively detailed homepages?

The only other bit of small-print worth repeating are the UK units of alcohol. This 500ml bottle and 4.7% alcoholic volume brings it to 2.4 UK units of alcohol. That means you can have nearly two before you are in receipts of an ASBO. And, if Sir Liam Donaldson gets his way, your wallet will be nearly £1.50 pence lighter.

So, will Wells Bombardier Burning Gold be as delicious as I’m hoping it will be? What will it taste like? And should you buy it? These questions and more I shall attempt to answer for you, now…

The colour is no surprise. It’s exactly the same dark golden hue as you saw the bottle. Not much head to speak of. There is a patchy layer of foam, but nothing to imperil your pouring. My pint glass easily contained it all.

The label promised “zesty aromas”. Does it deliver? Impressively. It smells delicious. It’s pungent enough for you to smell it easily enough, too. “Zesty” is definitely the right word for it. There’s all kinds of citrusy and plant-based smells in there. It reminds me of that lemon scented kitchen and bathroom surface cleaner. In a good, unmistakably beery way. It really does smell very nice indeed.

What does it taste like? A couple of gulps in, and it is very pleasant. The label describes the flavour as “dry” and “crisp”, “with more than a hint of citrus”. Yet again, I can’t disagree. Citrus is the main flavour. But I think the dry malty taste adds some biscuit to the blend of flavours.

I can’t disagree with the description of it having a “smooth lasting finish” either. After the flavours pass, the transition to the aftertaste really is as smooth as the service at a Swedish railway station. There is no bitter “bite” anywhere to be seen. Instead, what you get is a lightly malty and hoppy finish that lasts and lasts. You’ll struggle to know what it is you’re tasting, it is that gentle. But you’ll be happy that it’s there.

Nearly half-way through, and I’m finding a lot to like about Wells Bombardier Burning Gold. For starters, there’s enough layers to the flavour and taste to keep you thinking. Everyone of them is blended into something that tastes superb. And it does this while being smooth, crisp, light and refreshing. On top of all those things, it’s very easy to drink. Something that must reflect on the quality of the ingredients and effort that went into it. Also, unlike with some ales, you won’t feel like you’re eating a heavy meal. And, it’s not gassy, either.

However, I do have a few problems with Burning Gold. Foremost among which is what it stands for. Burning Gold seems to be yet another well made summery ale. Yet another one. Why would you choose this, over say, Morrissey Fox Blonde, Wychwood Circlemaster Golden Pale Aleor any other of the expertly made, delicious, summery ales? There’s nothing wrong with them, on their own. Just a lack of imagination when you round them up together.

Besides that, there’s not much to dislike about Wells Bombardier Burning Gold. I’m not a fan of ‘dryness’, but I’m sure a lot of you out there will love that about it. If I had to nitpick, it would be that it’s still quite hard to find. The stock in my local Tesco could vanish never to be seen again.

To sum up, Wells Bombardier Burning Gold is a delicious, high-quality, drinkable, if slightly unimaginative summery ale. If you normally only inflict cider on your body, treat it to some Burning Gold. This is an outstanding transition ale to help you bridge the flavour gap. Nothing about Burning Gold will put you off. If you’re trying to decide whether to buy it, I say yes. Burning Gold is an excellent use of your weekly drinks budget. I just wish that they had shown a tiny bit more imagination. Put some moss or coconut in and make it truly inspired.

Rating: 4.2

Have you tried Wells Bombardier Burning Gold? Do you work for Wells & Young’s? What did you think of this bottled ale? Do please leave your opinions, corrections, ramblings, requests, recommendations and places to buy here in the comments. And yes, I do read every single one of them.

I LOVE it when a brewer comes over all rebellious and decides “I’m going to make something with all the wrong ingredients”. You get magnificent results like Ruddles Rhubarb, Wells Banana Bread and Badger Blandford Fly. The flavours and tastes they have shouldn’t work in a beer. But they do. So I’m thrilled to have here a bottle of Young’s Luxury Double Chocolate Stout.

This one was procured from the every surprising Bethnal Green Food Center for the sum of £1.79 pence.

The bottle is Young’s standard bottle. The dark glass does look particularly good against the purple labels in this case though. What of that detailed looking neck label?

Well the front of it is mostly marketing speak that read like a mission statement. It’s all well and good, but it doesn’t actually say anything useful. The other side of the wrap-around neck label is full of small-print.

Buried in the tiny print, we learn that this was bottled and brewed by Wells & Young’s Brewing Co Ltd in Bedford. And that their website is at www.wellsandyoungs.co.uk. Which, of course, reminds us that Young’s is part of Wells & Young’s, the UK’s largest privately owned brewery. It’s an interesting, if dense read on a better than average website.

A quick look around and we find the page dedicated to this very bottle of Double Chocolate Stout. The address is http://www.wellsandyoungs.co.uk/wellsandyoungs/beers/ales/youngs-double-chocolate and I thoroughly recommend that you give it a read because the labels on the bottle don’t do it justice. From the website, we learn that Double Chocolate Stout has won at least four Brewing Industry International Awards. That it was made with no less than pale ale and crystal malt and chocolate malt. Fuggle and Goldings hops. And real dark chocolate and chocolate essence. This is stacking up to be something special. Even if the labels on the bottle aren’t.

Back over to the front label now, and everything is where it should be.

It helpfully describes it as “Silky Rich & Creamy Smooth”. That, together with the purple colour and typeface makes it sound and look like chocolate packaging aimed at women. Which is probably what Young’s are aiming for with this Double Chocolate Stout.

Tucked away in the corners of the front label are the vital statistics. This bottle is the ubiquitous 500ml size. And the stout within weighs in at a healthy 5.2% alcoholic volume.

The back label, unfortunately, is a multi-lingual mess.

Look carefully though, and you’ll find some interesting information. They recommend that you serve Double Chocolate Stout “chilled”. And there’s the most complete list of ingredients that I’ve seen for a very long time. To quote the list, it was made with “brewing water, pale ale malt, chocolate malt, oats, sugar, hops, yeast, natural chocolate flavouring”. Not an ‘E’ number of preservative in sight.

The only other detail on the back label that isn’t on the front are the UK units of alcohol. What with this 500ml bottle containing a 5.2% alcoholic volume drink, you’ll get through 2.6 UK units of alcohol should you drink the contents of this bottle. That means that if you have two of them in a row, technically, you’ll be binge drinking.

Sadly, I only have the one bottle. And now it’s time to put that bottle of Young’s Double Chocolate Stout to the test. What does it actually taste like? Do I like it? And do I think you should go out and buy one? Let’s open the bottle and find out.

The first thing you notice about Young’s Double Chocolate Stout is that it doesn’t have a head. There are a few patchy bubbles floating on the surface, but nothing like the head that sits on top of glasses of Guinness. It’s as black as you’d like, but doesn’t look impressive without that head.

At first, I couldn’t smell any chocolate. The first few sniffs only turned up that delicious roasted smell that stouts have. It took a few more sniffs to realise that in that smell is chocolate. Yes, it really does have a faint smell of chocolate. And it’s rather nice.

What does it taste like? The first gulp of this thick stout is a pleasant one. As was the second one. What Young’s Double Chocolate Stout is not, is complex. Double Chocolate Stout has a gentle, largely uncomplicated taste. It tastes a tiny bit of chocolate. But the flavour that dominates is a variant on the roasted malty taste that all stouts have. Unlike lots of other stouts, there’s no real bitter aftertaste. There’s so little bitter aftertaste, that it’s almost not there at all.

That else? Well, the drink itself is rich and creamy. Much like how they describe it on the front label in fact.

What am I enjoying about Young’s Double Chocolate Stout? The answer is quite a lot. The flavour is easy-going and tasty. The aftertaste doesn’t deliver an unpleasant sting in the tail. And those things make it one of the easiest to drink stouts on the market today. I love the rich flavour and how smooth it is. And how I can drink it without burping. This is a very good quality drink.

What am I not enjoying so much? It’s still a stout, so if you don’t like the syrupy liquid that makes you thirsty, you might not like this one. Even thought this one fixes a lot of my criticisms of what stout is. The biggest complaint I have is that the chocolate isn’t as prominent as I had hoped it would be. It’s very easy to forget that you’re drinking a chocolate-y stout in Double Chocolate Stout. I’d like to see it take bigger risks with the flavour by being as chocolate-y as the billing. The only other complaints I can think of are that it’s not easy to get hold of. There’s every chance that the shop where I bought this bottle will be selling something else the next time I visit.

Where does this leave Young’s Luxury Double Chocolate Stout? It leaves it as one of the best stouts I’ve tried. Forget the chocolate element. Sadly, the chocolate hardly features. And that means Double Chocolate Stout won’t be one of the great flavour-hybrid beers of the world. What it does have is the easiest drinkability of any stout I’ve tried. And that’s an achievement worth drinking to.

Rating: 4.15

Have you tried Young’s Luxury Double Chocolate Stout? What did you think of it? Leave your corrections, opinions, suggestions and recommendations in the boxes below.

IT’S been a long time since I’ve had good British ale, hasn’t it? It certainly feels like it. That’s why I’m delighted to have here a bottle of ale from a brewer I haven’t tried before. Here is Courage Directors.

It gets off to a good start in the looks department. The bottle looks the right shape. It looks like a miner excavated it from a seam and then chiselled it into the what we have before us. It also has things embossed around the shoulder. Pictures of hops make an appearance. As do the welcome words “Independent Family Brewer”.

Around the unusually long neck, is an equally long neck label.

It tells us that this ale was originally brewed for the “directors”. And that it’s “now brewed with distinction for you”. That’s an excellent story. But it belongs on the back label. The neck label is where you expect to find information about what sort of drink it is.

The neck label doesn’t end there though. It has a back.

The small writing on this side of the neck label tells us that it was brewed by Wells & Young’s Brewing Company Limited in Bedford. Which, is a bit disappointing. I was hoping that Courage would be independent. Especially as that’s what it has embossed around the bottle’s shoulder.

The front label is one, big, good-looking roundel. That combination of purple and gold looks very classy.

First up, the “Courage” logo. Why does it feature a cockerel? Near all the hop and barley imagery is also a date: 1787. I don’t know about you, but that’s more than enough heritage. Things are looking good for Courage Directors.

Under the “Directors” name are a few bits of vital information. First, they describe it as a “Traditionally brewed superior quality ale”. Which doesn’t tell me quite as much as I’d like to know. Not that I’d necessarily understand it, but I like to read details. Especially if they baffle me. Under that, and standing most prominently of all is the alcoholic volume. This ale weighs in at 4.8% volume, which is neither very strong nor weak.

The back label has some more information. But not as much as you might think. That’s because most of it is taken up with a few small details being repeated in half a dozen different languages.

It starts well enough though with a decent background and description. We learn that Directors was originally brewed for the directors of the brewery. That they describe it as an “amber ale”. Which is confusing because they describe it with different words on the front label and on the website as a bitter.

Fortunately, they dive straight into a detailed description of what it tastes like. They describe it as “full of character, with a distinctive spicy hop aroma, the perfect balance of crystal malt with crisp, fruity, butty hops and a lasting finish”. Crikey, that sounds complex and delicious. Exactly like an ale should be. My mouth is watering.

Underneath that, they give a refreshingly complete list of ingredients. To quote the label again, it contains “water, malted barley, sugar, hops, yeast, colour, E150C”. I like to see a full list of ingredients. Even if colour and an E number are an unwelcome sight. You’ve got to respect the honesty. I just hope it won’t taste artificial.

Below that, the details become even more mundane. You’ll probably have guessed that this bottle is the typical 500ml size. And that, together with the 4.8% volume brings it to 2.4 UK units of alcohol. All very boring.

What you want to know is what does it taste like? And will you like it? There’s only one way to find out.

What with them describing it as an amber ale, I expected an amber yellow colour. That is not how Courage Directors looks. It’s more of a light shade of brown. It looks like how I’d imagine a straightforward bitter to look. As for the head, there isn’t much. Just a patchy layer of creamy white.

The label described it as having a “spicy hop aroma”. Whatever the aroma is, you’ll have a hard time identifying it. It’s not very strong. From the little I could smell, I’ll happily go along with “spicy hop aroma”. It smells kind of ‘bitter’ in a hoppy way, and in a tangy way. Which, I’ll call ‘spicy’. It is weak smelling though. But is it weak tasting?

After a couple of gulps, Courage Directors tastes like a good bitter tasting ale. The label described flavours like malt, fruit and nutty hops. After a few more sips, I’m detecting some flavours of maltiness, a small bit of fruitiness and a tiny taste of hops. With so many flavours on the label, I expected an onslaught of interesting flavours. But that’s not what this ale is about. Apparently.

Yes I can taste hints of all of those things, bit it’s the lingering, bitter, hoppy aftertaste that Courage Directors is all about. Of the many, many promises on the back label, a “lasting finish” was one of them. And that’s where it truly delivers. You get a decent, medium intensity, hoppy aftertaste that doesn’t go anywhere. You can taste those “nutty hops” form some time. It’s going to stick in my mouth until I Listerine my mouth before going to bed.

What am I enjoying about this bottle of Courage Directors? Quite a few things. I like the blend of flavours and taste which I haven’t tasted elsewhere. That’s something that scores it points for distinctiveness. The taste is rich. The hoppiness is nice and easy to get used to. So much so, a regular beer drinker can enjoy this. It’s smooth and not at all gassy. Strong enough, too. All in all, a well made, honest, hoppy, bitter ale.

What aren’t I enjoying about this bottle of Courage Directors? Well, it could be incredible if the flavours weren’t hidden by the blanket of hoppy bitterness. It really is dominated by that side of it. And that makes bores me. Even so, I know a lot of you will love it for that down to earth bitterness. Also on the list of downsides is how hard it is to find. This bottle came from a wine shop in Cockfosters, North London. And it was the first bottle I had ever seen. At £1.99 pence, it’s expensive too. Aside from those things, there’s not much to dislike.

How can I sum up Courage Directors? It’s an ale with the emphasis on bitterness. If you like your ale to focus on the straightforward bitterness, this is one to try. It’s probably also worth a look if you like the big name bitters sold in cans in every supermarket. Personally, it’s interesting and unusual flavours that do it for me. So I probably won’t be buying up lots of bottles of Directors. But if I find this on tap, then why not?

Rating: 4.05

Have you tried Courage Directors? What did you think of it? Do you know anywhere to buy it in your area of the world?

Do please leave your corrections, opinions, information, advice, requests and recommendations in the small boxes below.

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BACK from my experiment with bland Polish lagers, I’m feeling the need for something quirky. And British. What better place to start then, than with Wells Banana Bread Beer.

So far, I’ve only seen one corner shop in the Bethnal Green and Brick Lane area selling this. And at the ultra-premium price of £1.89 pence. Needless to say that you could need to put in some leg work to track down a bottle of this oddly-named beer.

I’m certainly stumped by the connection between bananas, bread and beer. They’re as unrelated as soap, gravel and Incan sun gods. The front of the bottle doesn’t solve the mystery, but it does have good news. That’s because, in true Wells fashion, this, is a full-pint bottle. Not one of those homogenised continental millilitre measures here.

The main front label doesn’t exactly answer any questions. But it does add to the sense of quirky eccentricity. Which is what I hope they were aiming for.

Under the big “Banana Bread Beer” name is a picture you’ve probably never seen before. Nor ever will anywhere else. If you’ve ever imagined what a peeled banana would look like with a glass of beer where the edible part would normally be, then you’ve got a strange imagination indeed. And, as it happens, the same sort of imagination that came up with the picture on the front of this label.

Also on the front label, in very small writing, is the volume. Which comes in at 5.2%. Not bad. At least it’s above the ever-so-unimaginative 5% you see everywhere these days.

Over on the back of the bottle, you’re subjected to the full-force of the Wells style of back label.

With a pamphlet worth of information, it’s hard to know where to begin. To save you the trouble, I’ll start with the big small-print at the bottom of the label. Then try to summarise the novella on the subject of how this beer came to be.

The bottom of the label is where you’re eyes are drawn to first. Mostly because, ironically, the small-print details are bigger than anything else around them. You’ll be pleased to see that this “Full English Pint” weights in at 568 millilitres. And that this “Premium Ale” contains “malted barley”.

All this adds up to a whole 3.0 UK units of alcohol. So girls, if you care to follow such guidelines, which you don’t, you’ll have had about enough for one day after one bottle of this beer. Gents, you can have around half a cheap lager more.

Now to take on this enormous, two-column block of writing about this beer. And try and answer some questions about what a beer has to do with bananas. And bread. First, they boast about using water from their own well. Then, they tell us that the hops they use, are English “Challenger” and “Goldings” hops. They go on to say how they brew this beer using Fair Trade Bananas. And that this provides “roundness in flavour” and an “appealing aroma”. No mention of why bananas. Like it’s normal.

Instead, they go straight on to say that these ingredients are fermented for seven days. And that this “intriguing” beer is award-winning. Although there’s no word on what award it was. Award for most unusual combination of ingredients would be my guess. Lastly, they inform us that they named this beer, in part, after the Saxon name for beer, which was “Liquid Bread”. It’s a tenuous connection, but you can just about see how the bananas, bread and beer came to be on the same beer label together.

What am I expecting from this? Almost no idea. Apparently it’s a bitter, but it could have some trace of banana in the smell and taste. How drinkable that will be, I look forward to finding out, because now it’s time to see if it’s any good.

Pouring this full-pint into a pint-glass, the main worry is whether the head will overflow, making a mess of your kitchen countertop. But that wasn’t a problem, because Banana Bread Beer has only the thinnest layers of head.

The colour is a darkish, reddish deep shade of amber. Bitter colour, I suppose. The smell is where Banana Bread Beer really starts to deviate from the usual. Dominating the aroma, is the smell of bananas. Just as promised on the label. Only stronger than I expected. You’ll get your first whiff of it as you’re pouring. It reminds me of those bags of bright yellow, bananas flavoured sweets that you can buy in bags. I cannot do it justice. You’ll have to see, or smell this for yourself. A beer that smells of bananas, and smells delicious too.

A couple of gulps in, and like with Waggle Dance, I’m surprised by how normal the taste is. The tastes that strike you are the usual, yet high-quality, hoppy bitterness and sourness. Underneath the mad-as-a-brush exterior, you’ll find a bitter-tasting, good-quality ale.

The flavours don’t stop there though. There’s a pleasantly tangy, if somewhat hidden banana flavour still present. And this gives an otherwise typical ale, an unusual and citrusy twist. I’m thoroughly enjoying the imagination that went into this.

Other things I like about it are that it’s not too gassy. It’s smooth. It has that full-bodied, full-flavoured and complex quality I’ve been missing recently with all those bland European lagers. The character and originality of that blend of flavours scores it marks too. And the quality of everything that went into Banana Bread Beer shows in how drinkable it is. You would have to be a very timid drinker to be offended by anything about this beer. I’d happily get a few bottles in, if I could afford them.

And that starts a look at the downsides. It is expensive. At least it is from the shop where I bought it. And it’s not as if there’s much choice of where to buy it. And, while I loved the blend of bitter ale and banana, I couldn’t help feeling that more outrageousness was in order. Anyone, who buys a beer called Banana Bread Beer wants something totally off-the-wall. But that eccentricity, instead of taking centre stage, is obscured.

I absolutely enjoyed Wells Banana Bread Beer. It’s not as unusual as I’d hoped, but it’s more unusual than honey beers like Waggle Dance. It takes and smells unlike anything else I’ve tried. Unusual, drinkable and recommended if you can find it and afford it.

Rating: 4.2

Have you tried Wells Banana Bread Beer? Or any other banana beer? What did you think?
Leave your corrections, opinions, thoughts, ideas and suggestions in the usual place please and thank you for reading.

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HERE is a bottle, and a category of beer that has long intrigued me: Young’s Waggle Dance. And it’s a honey beer. Yes, I’m confused by what that means, too. But apparently there are other honey beers out there. This one looks as good a place as any to start with honey beers.

The first thing you notice is the honey coloured theme. The transparent glass bottle lets you glimpse liquid of a colour you would normally associate with a different supermarket shelf entirely. The temptation at this point would be to fill the labels with pictures of bees, beehives or beekeepers. But Young’s go and so something quite unexpected.

The neck label doesn’t do anything at all. Absolutely nothing. There’s some honey yellow shades and some wavy lines, but that’s it.

But the main front label goes for a photo of a woman dancing. Seriously. See for yourself.

Another thing that strikes me about the front label is how much of it is simply blank, yellow coloured space. Apart, that is, from a tiny, lone picture of a bee. Above that, and the dancer, there is the very prominent “Waggle Dance” name. Maybe the woman pictured is dancing the Waggle?

Reading on… The rest of the front has the important details such as the 5% volume. Which I’m pleased to see. The Young’s established date of 1831 is also there. And above the main title is the description “a Light & Refreshing Honey Beer”. Sounds delicious.

Turning the bottle around and restraint is again in evidence on the back label. No pictures of dancers, bees or anything.

Instead, there’s a paragraph of background and the usual small print. This time, the background story is really worth reading. If for no other reason, than to explain what this Waggle Dance business is all about. And Young’s open the story with perhaps the best sentence you could have on a beer bottle… “Unusual name, unusual beer”. Tell me even you wouldn’t want to read on after that?

It goes on to explain that the Waggle Dance is something a bee does in a bee hive, to tell the other bees about a source of nectar. A sort of communication through expressive dance.

Furthermore, Waggle Dance is brewed with “a touch of honey” which gives it the taste it has. And that it has a “healthy dose of hops” to provide bitterness, giving a “delicate flavour”.

All very feminine. Which leads me to a theory. That Waggle Dance is aimed at the woman drinker. The picture of the dancer on the front. The warm colour. The choice of words on the label. It’s all painting a picture. And that picture is carrying a handbag.

Also tucked away on the back label are the small print details. That this has 2.5 UK units of alcohol. That it was brewed and bottled in Bedford, England. And that the web addresses that matter are www.youngsathome.co.uk and www.wellsandyoungs.co.uk. Both of which go to very professional websites.

Will my theory hold true? Will the honey taste be noticeable? And is Waggle Dance any good? Time to find out.

In the glass, you can see that it’s a good dark golden colour. And that it comes topped by a nice frothy head.

But while I was pouring, what struck me was the smell. It really is quite strong. And quite pleasant. To me, it smells like yeast and hops. But I’m notoriously bad a judging smells. Are yeast and hops what I’m smelling here? Or is it something else? If you think you know what Waggle Dance smells of, leave a comment at the end of this post.

A couple of gulps in and the first thing I’m noticing is the hoppy bitterness. So far, that’s all I’m noticing. It’s both the fore and aftertaste. It’s also rather gassy.

Further in, and the smoothness and quality are starting to shine through. This is not going to be difficult to drink quickly. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I am now starting to detect that very slight hint of honey sweetness, buried deep beneath the hoppy bitterness.

About half way through now, and I’m starting to enjoy this Waggle Dance honey beer concept. It’s bitter, but it’s not hard going. And if you look hard, it’s balanced by a little bit of sweetness. Whether it’s sweet or fruity enough to satisfy the tastes of female drinkers though, I’m not sure. So girls, if you’ve tried this beer, leave a comment on what you thought of it.

If it were up to me, I’d add a whole lot more honey inspired sweetness. Not being a huge fan of bitterness, I think a very sweet beer would be an excellent niche filler. As it is, I’m awarding some extra marks for originality. Because even though there are some other honey beers out there, it’s hard to call them mainstream yet. But I’m taking some away because it could go a lot further.

Overall, Waggle Dance is another above average beer from Young’s. It does something somewhat unusual. It packages it in an inspired way. And it’s very drinkable. But at the end of the day, it’s another mostly bitter tasting beer.

Rating: 3.85

If you’ve tried Waggle Dance, leave a comment! If you’ve tried any other honey beers, leave a comment on what they were and what you thought of them.
Any other suggestions or ideas for the blog are also very welcome.

THIS is one that I’ve been wanting to try for some time. From the English Wells and Young’s comes Bombardier. But this bottle isn’t the widely available, regular premium bitter. This, is Satanic Mills. No, not a jibe about professional wacko Heather Mills, but rather a different kind of bitter. Let’s try to figure out what they’re on about.

You might not have noticed it on the shelves next to dozens of other oddly shaped bottles, but this one is different. Not different in the way that most others surprise, by being very small. But by being ever so slightly bigger. Have a look at the neck label to see what I mean.

This, and the rest of the Wells Bombardier range is a pint. Not the typical, continental 500 millilitres that leaves your pint glass part empty. Finally, a brewery that sees sense. It’s confirmed on the other side too. That this is 568 millilitres. At last. Now if only every other brewer in the world would follow this example.

On the main front label, the first thing you notice is the St. George’s Cross planted firmly in the centre. This is going to be a fiercely English beer. And why not after the many fine Scottish ales that I’ve reviewed of late. Looking a little closer, this has a volume of 5.0%. And under the Wells name we’re told that they have been brewing since 1876. I like the design of the front label. The black background. The silver patterns. And the symmetry. It all gives a very professional appearance.

Turning the one-pint bottle around, and things aren’t so pretty. On a decent sized label, they have tried to cram a European Constitution’s worth text. And the route they’ve chosen to do that, is by using very very small text. What do you make of this?

I’m not looking forward to deciphering this. But I know that you’ve all come to expect impossible levels of detail from me. So here goes.

First of all, it transpires that the Satanic Mills name comes from the words to William Blake’s Jerusalem song. That like their original, and more widely available Premium Bitter, the water used for this beer comes from their own well. That they use English ‘Fuggles’ and ‘Goldings’ hops. And that this helps the drink to be fruity and smooth. But of course, I’ll be the judge of that.

It goes on in great detail to explain that Satanic Mills is brewed using ‘Ale’ and ‘Chocolate’ malt that is then intensely roasted. Not only that, but that the malt is carefully crushed instead of ground because doing so makes the flavours more complex and the head creamier. I didn’t even know that that was important before reading that. Not stopping there, it continues by telling us that it gets brewed for seven days.

Then we get to the various little details scattered all over the label. And they truly are scattered. The symbol telling us that this bottle contains 2.8 UK units of alcohol is half-way up the right-hand-side. On either side of the barcode we have the numerical volume of liquid and on the other, something telling us that this pint bottle has 13.6% more that a standard 500 millilitre bottle. In another little corner, we get a summary of the ingredients which as malted barley and oats in this case. And the address of their website which is http://www.bombardier.co.uk/.

Chaps, the front label is terrific. But the back label is a mess. It’s as if over the years, lots of little additions have been made. But no one has taken a step back and said “do we really need it all?” Cut some out. Separate the details from the story behind it. And for goodness sake, use larger sized text so we can actually read it.

With the pleasantries out of the way, we can finally see what this is like to drink. Once in the glass, it was as dark as a stout. But the head wasn’t as creamy as the label had promised. Even so, look at the sight of this. After so many bottles over-filling or under-filling the glass, it’s great to finally have a full pint.

One of the things that hit me was the smell. There’s no need to put the effort into actually sniffing this drink. You can smell the drink malt and barley from quite some distance. It might be a bit overpowering for some, but not if you like stout. Which is what this is turning out to be. Lets see if it tastes like a stout too.

I’m not sure. Admittedly, that’s probably down to my utter lack of knowledge regarding beers. But it’s definitely similar to, but not identical to stouts. Does that make this a variation on the dark ale instead? I don’t know the answer to that either. The label bills this as a ‘premium bitter’. And yes, it is bittery. But the dark character of Satanic Mills is thoroughly different to any other bitter I’ve tested.

How can I describe what this is like to drink? It is mildly bitter, but not as strong as I was expecting. And it doesn’t have any nasty after taste either. Surprisingly, it’s not got much to offend your palate, whatever drink you usually stick to. I’m not a fan of bitters and half-expected to be unimpressed by this. But Satanic Mills is turning into a surprise.

It’s not at all gassy. And it has a heavy, full-bodied character to it. But without the downsides of strong lingering aftertastes. I expected to find this hard-going, but it’s not. Completely unexpectedly, Satanic Mills is one of the most pleasantly drinkable bitters I’ve yet sampled.

How can I sum up Satanic Mills? Instead of being the tough, heavy, dark bitter I was expecting; Satanic Mills is a heavy, dark, drinkable, lightly-bitter drink. And none of that was mentioned on the back label. This is an exceptional English bitter with plenty of complexity and character. If only they’d communicate it better. Lastly, I grew to enjoy this brew. But drinkers who like their beers refreshing might want to look elsewhere.

Rating: 4.2

Have you tried Satanic Mills? What did you think?
Any suggestions for what I should review next?
Comments, ideas and insults below please.